Teeth
by AmyQueen95
Summary: Whether they're smiling, aching, chewing or chattering, we all have teeth. So what toothy dilemmas have Max and the flock encountered in their crazy mutant lives? Here's your chance to find out. Series of oneshots/twoshots. Latest story: Fang, part I.
1. Dentist

Hey everyone! It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I have lots to say, but I'll wait until the end of this chapter to say it. So for now, just read and enjoy!

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><p><strong>Dentist<strong>

_In which Ella partakes in a rather unpleasant procedure._

"Please don't do this! _Please!_"

I had been sitting on the front porch, flipping aimlessly through a magazine, when I heard the Gasman screaming and squealing in the backyard. My eyes widened, and immediately I stood up and ran to the back of the house. Max and company were visiting this week, and that meant you never knew what was going to happen.

When I sprinted towards Gazzy's desperate pleas for mercy, I had been half-expecting to encounter a ravenous werewolf or a mad army of robot soldiers traipsing in the backyard. What I wasn't expecting was to find the Flock chasing the Gasman around on the lawn, trying to wrestle him to the ground. Ignoring Gazzy's shrill hysterics, Max directed the others what to do as they closed in on the fleeing boy.

"Fang, Iggy, sit on his legs! Nudge and Angel, grab an arm and take him down!" The Flock moved together in a swift, coordinated manner, pushing Gazzy to the ground and pinning him before he could break free again. He attempted to jerk and thrash about, hoping to wrench something loose, but the guys sat firmly in place and the girls each had a fixed grip on one of his wrists, as they spread his arms apart so that he was unshielded and defenceless.

"Please please _please_ don't," Gazzy begged, "it's not that bad, really!"

"Not that bad?" Nudge snorted, "Yeah right. Your breath has been stinking up the house for days!" Hmm, now that she mentioned it, Gazzy had seemed a little stinky lately, even for him. But what did that have to do with _this?_

"It'll be over in a sec, Gaz," Max assured him, sitting on his chest to further limit his struggles, "Just stay still and it'll be done quick, okay sweetie?"

"NO!" Gazzy screamed again, throwing his head back and forth as Max grabbed his jaw and tried to hold it still.

At that moment I finally unfroze and ran towards the Flock, shouting, "What are you doing to him!"

"Hey Ella," Max answered, looking determined yet eerily unconcerned, "We're just taking care of a little dental problem."

"She's trying to kill me!" Gazzy screeched, "Ella, stop her, please!"

I shot Max a disconcerted look, but she and the others just rolled their eyes. "Ignore him, Ella, Gazzy's just being a drama queen. He does this every time he gets a cavity."

_Wait, what?_ "You're doing all this because the Gasman has a cavity? Why?"

"Simple," Max declared, pulling a pair of pliers out of her pocket, "We're going to get rid of it before it gets any worse." There was an almost dangerous glint in her eye.

My jaw nearly dropped. "Y-you're kidding, right? You're going to just yank his tooth out... with _those?_ You can't do that!"

"Sure we can," Iggy replied a little too cheerfully, "We've done this plenty of times. Besides, it's no big deal; every time one of us loses a tooth, we grow another one to replace it."

"That's handy..." I said uncertainly.

He shrugged. "One of the perks of being a mutant freak."

While this verbal exchange was going on, Max took advantage of Gazzy's distracted state to try and force his mouth open. However, Gazzy reacted quickly, jerking his head in an attempt to shake Max's steel grip on his chin. He grunted loudly and made a high-pitched moaning noise.

"Ugh! Gazzy!" Max cried with frustration, "Why do you make this so hard!"

"You might want to hurry, Max," Fang informed her in an irritated tone, "He's gotten bigger since last time."

"I'm trying!" she replied in exasperation. Suddenly I saw an idea cross her face, and she turned to me and said, "Ella, come here and help me!"

"What!" I looked at her in horror, "No way, can't we just—"

"Ella, help _now!_"

"But just—"

"Ow!" Iggy cried, "Gazzy, stop shoving your knee up my—"

"_Ella!_"

"Alright, alright!" I knelt down in front of Gazzy's head so that I was facing Max. Everything was happening so fast that I had no idea what I was doing anymore.

"Look," Max shouted at me, as Gazzy's complaints grew louder, "Just pry his mouth open and hold him still so I can stick the pliers in!"

"_What!_"

"What, do _you_ want to pull the tooth out?"

"Okay, okay, I'll do it!" Quickly I reached down towards the Gasman, who had his lips pursed tightly shut. Trying my best not to hurt him, I jammed my thumb between his lips and used my other fingers to pinch his chin tightly. I forced my thumbnail between his teeth and attempted to pry his mouth open tentatively.

"Don't be gentle!" Max told me, reaching out a hand to speed up the process. Together we yanked his mouth open, and it took all the force I had to keep it agape as Max gripped the pliers and carefully manoeuvred them into Gazzy's mouth.

"Gah! Hurry, Max!" Angel cried, shifting more of her weight onto Gazzy's arm to stop the sudden flailing.

Singling out the rotten tooth, Max clamped down with the pliers and warned, "It's coming out on the count of three!"

Gazzy shook violently as he tried to lose the pliers' grip, but Max was too experienced at this. "Owwt ouo ih a'ai hawih—" I think he was trying to plea bargain, but he was cut off by Max's countdown.

"One!"

"Max!" I tried once more to interrupt, hoping to put a stop to this dental nightmare, "Let's just—"

"Two!" And then without warning she yanked the pliers out of Gazzy's mouth with a violent tug, jerking the tooth out in one fluid motion. Max brought pliers to her face, examining the tooth still pinched between them, while the Gasman screamed and twitched beneath her. After a few seconds the screaming stopped and his body went limp, and finally everyone got off of him and gave him some space.

Gazzy moaned softly and rolled around on the lawn, clutching his jaw. "It hurts..." he whimpered, "And I thought you said on the count of three!"

Max sighed. "That's why I keep telling you to brush your teeth! Especially since you keep stuffing your face with candy every chance you get. And I know I said three; I was trying to catch you off-guard." She gave him the slightest smirk and kneeled next to Gazzy on the grass as he spat out a mouthful of spittle and blood.

Of course, I was absolutely mortified at this point. Not only had I just encountered what was perhaps the most barbaric tooth removal in the history of dentistry, but I had also just _participated_ in it. "I can't believe you just did that!" I exploded, "Did you even give him anything for pain!"

"We slipped a couple of Tylenols into his food at lunch," Iggy told me, shrugging, "and there's more inside."

"I want ice cream," Gazzy pouted, frowning slightly as Max ruffled his hair. I gaped at him; how was this little boy not psychologically scarred by what had just happened? And how on earth could the Flock think that this was an acceptable way to remove a tooth!

"Besides," Max said as she helped Gazzy up off the ground, "it had to be done. He couldn't keep going around with a cavity the rest of his life."

"_Had to be done? _Max, we could have taken him to a _dentist!_ You know, that guy who knows how to fix cavities without pinning a kid to the ground and yankinghis tooth out with a pair of pliers?"

"...Oh." There was an awkward pause as Max and the others eyed each other sheepishly. Obviously the thought had never crossed their minds.

Taking a moment to collect myself, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Then, in my calmest, most put together voice, I informed the Flock, "I am going inside to watch TV, to try and forget this ever happened. I suggest none of you mention this to Mom when she gets home." Then I shot the Gasman a final look of concern. "Are you sure you're okay Gazzy?"

"I'm fine," he replied, shrugging.

"Good."

I turned and went up the stairs to the back door. The only noise I heard from the Flock as I left was Gazzy's voice, which asked Max, "Could I have my tooth back? I want to add it to my collection!"

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><p>And so it begins! Anyways, as you've already guessed from the story summary, this fanfiction is a collection of funny-ish oneshots (and a few multi-shots) about the flock, with my own little themed twist: teeth. \:D If I'm not going to make my stories disturbing/suspenseful/creepy like they usually are, I can at least give them a weird theme.

Oh, and for those of you waiting for that promised prequel to my last story, _An Icy Blaze_, muchos apologies. I know that I'd wanted that story out months ago, but life (read: "procrastination") got in the way, so I'm still trying to work on that. Progress is slow, but it's happening!

Now keep reading, and be sure to review afterwards! ^_^


	2. Brush

**Brush**

_In which Max ponders Iggy's oral hygiene._

To say the flock has a hygiene problem would be a gross understatement.

I mean, you can't exactly blame us. We spent most of our early childhood in the School, bathing on a need-to-wash basis, and spent another two years hiding in the mountains without adult supervision, where the indoor plumbing was patchy at best. It's amazing we were even potty trained. Recently we've gotten better at keeping up our appearances, what with all the national publicity and regular access to running water, but our washing habits are still a little erratic. There have been times where I've thought that if we didn't make a point of telling each other how bad they smell, none of us would ever bathe!

But for all the sweat and grime and general neglect, there is one area of cleanliness that I have tried to keep everyone on top of: brushing teeth. There aren't any available dentists when you're on the run, and the last thing you want is to have a tooth rot through and then crack when you get walloped in the face by an Eraser's hairy knuckles. Besides, toothpaste and toothbrushes are easy enough to carry with us, so it isn't really an inconvenience.

Most flock members are pretty good at remembering to brush their teeth. Angel embraces oral hygiene with childish enthusiasm, scrubbing eagerly to ensure all her pearly whites are as shiny and bright as they can get. Nudge, too, brushes religiously, eager to keep her smile pretty and her breath fresh, in case she meets someone new and/or handsome—never mind if she's wearing week old clothes and is covered in dried blood. Gazzy can be a hassle at times, often needing to be hounded about the subject, but I usually manage to keep him in line. And Fang's brushing is second only to Nudge's, making his amazing smile all that much brighter and his mouth oh so minty and kissable. (But you didn't hear that from me!)

There is one person, however, who is the stubborn exception to the flock's sparkling oral hygiene record: Iggy. Much to my chagrin, that boy has always resisted my efforts to keep his bad breath from fogging us out of the sky. He'd constantly gripe, grumbling that he didn't understand why I was so insistent about the toothbrush thing. "We all look like hobos anyways," he complained, "Why does it matter if our teeth match?"

That was easy for him to say, of course—compared to the rest of us, his chompers were indestructible. We were all genetically engineered t o have good teeth, of course, but Iggy must've had a good tooth gene on top of that. It didn't matter how infrequently he brushed or how much candy he ate; his enamel was impenetrable, it seemed, and he never hesitated to point that fact out whenever I tried the old "You'll get a cavity if you don't brush!" routine. Maybe he thought he'd evolved beyond dental care.

We usually managed to keep him on a steady supply of extra-strong mint-flavored chewing gum to reduce the stench, but that didn't fix the fact that his teeth always looked disgusting and yellow. He'd kept up with brushing for a little while, when we were staying at Anne's, but as soon as we were on our own again he reverted back to his neglectful ways. It was all I could do to get his teeth looking clean for a CSM meeting or public appearance.

That was how it used to be, anyways. Lately, however, Iggy's been... different.

It was about a week ago that I noticed something was up. We'd been paying a visit to Mom and Ella while doing some promotional stuff for the CSM, and morning and evening use of the house's two bathrooms had been scheduled and split among the eight of us: Angel, Nudge, Ella, and Mom got to use the master bathroom, and me and the guys had to share the bathroom upstairs. That's right, I had to share a bathroom with two teenage boys and the Gasman. Lucky me.

Anyways, I'd gotten up early that morning to sneak in a pre-schedule shower, but was puzzled to find that the bathroom was already occupied. Who could be in there? Gazzy had strict orders not to use the toilet until everyone else had gone first, and the other two had been up late watching a movie on TV, so I hadn't been expecting them up at least for another hour.

"Fang?" I knocked lightly on the door, "Are you in there?"

"No," A foamy mouth replied in response. I heard spitting on the other side of the door, and then a much clearer reply of, "It's me."

"Iggy?" The door swung open, and sure enough, Iggy was standing at the sink, face covered in froth and toothbrush in hand.

"Yeah," he said, turning the sink on, "I'm almost done here."

I blinked. "You're brushing your teeth."

His face was blank. "Yeah, so?"

"You never brush your teeth."

"That's not true."

"Please," I rolled my eyes, "We all know you have to be held at gunpoint if we want you to do anything that requires maintaining personal hygiene, especially if it involves toothpaste! What's the big occasion?"

Iggy stuck his nose up slightly. "Nothing. Maybe I just decided to behave like a mature adult and take responsibility for my own cleanliness."

I raised my eyebrows incredulously. "Really."

"Yeah, really." Then Iggy deftly manoeuvred past me and headed down the hall, taking himself and his toothbrush back to the guest bedroom. I stared at the hallway for a couple of seconds, then at the sink, before I shook my head and closed the bathroom door behind me. _Iggy's so weird sometimes._

That wasn't the last time I caught him brushing his teeth of his own free will. He actually started to brush twice a day, just like the rest of us—sometimes he even brushed after lunchtime! I didn't buy his cheesy "take responsibility for my own cleanliness" line; there had to be a reason he'd turned into a dentist's dream overnight.

After a few days of this I approached Fang with the subject. "Hey, have you noticed Iggy acting kind of... _strange_ lately?"

Fang just looked at me. "Define strange."

"I don't know," I began, "He's just seems a little weird, like something's up with him. And he's been brushing his teeth—a lot."

"Isn't that a good thing?" He smirked.

"Yes, but I want to know _why_ he's doing it. Yesterday, I even saw him using dental floss! Do you _know_ how long it's been since Iggy last used dental floss?"

Fang leaned back in his seat, a knowing smile lingering on his face.

"You know something, don't you." I gave him a hard look. "Do you know why he's doing this?"

"I think so," he replied, "In fact, I'm surprised you don't already know about it."

"Don't already know _what?_"

At this Fang just smiled deviously. "I think I'm going to let you figure this one out on your own."

"What!" But Fang had already stood and was walking away. "Oh, come on!"

"You'll find out soon enough," he called to me without turning around, "It's pretty obvious, actually."

I glared at Fang as he left, trying to burn holes in the back of his head. _Stupid, smug boy with all his smirks and riddles. Can't he just tell me what's up with Iggy?_

_Fang is right, you know; it is rather obvious what's going on. _Ah, the Voice. Of course it would be in on the secret.

_If it's so flippin' obvious, _I snapped in reply, _then how come I don't know anything about it?_

_Perhaps you haven't been paying attention. You and Fang aren't the only ones going through changes. Iggy's growing up too, you know. _

My eyes narrowed. _What does that have to do with anything? _

_I'll give you a hint: I remember a certain teenage bird girl used to skip a day or two of brushing now and then—before she had a real reason to pay attention to her what breath smelled like and now clean her smile was._

I frowned. _Okay, there's been the odd time in the past where I've slacked off from my tooth care, but who hasn't done that? Besides, I keep up with my brushing _now_, especially now that Fang and I—Wait... Oh!_ That's when it hit me. _But what—I mean, who—? _

_Pay more attention to Iggy, Max. Things have been happening lately._

Suddenly aware of the fact that I had no idea where Iggy was or what he was doing, I got on my feet and went looking around the house. Fang, Angel, Gazzy, Nudge, and Total were all in the living room, all of them either watching TV or playing Monopoly, but Iggy was nowhere to be found. "Has anyone seen Iggy?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think him and Ella are on the back porch," Gazzy replied, wrinkling his nose slightly.

_He's with Ella?_ My eyes widened a fraction. "Okay, thanks." Then I retreated to the front door and slipped out into the dusky evening. I crept silently into the backyard, nestling myself between the trees so I had a good view of the wooden steps where Iggy and Ella were sitting together. I could also hear what they were saying.

"It's been really cool, having all you guys staying here," Ella smiled shyly, twirling her hair between her fingers.

"It's good to be here," Iggy replied, "I mean, the flock is great, but it's nice to get out and be with other people... people like you." Even in the darkened yard, I could tell they both had to be blushing.

There were a few moments of mildly uncomfortable silence. Finally, I heard Ella say quietly, "You're a really great guy, Iggy."

"Yeah? I think you're pretty great too." And then, as if by instinct, they both started leaning in towards each other, lips pursed and necks craned—Ella stretching upwards, Iggy stooping down slightly. It didn't take a genius to guess what was happening.

My eyes expanded to the size of baseballs, and I covered my mouth with my hand to stop myself from shouting or gasping. I felt like I should be jumping up from my hiding place and averting the moment, doing something to change the bombshell situation in front of me. _I mean, Iggy and my __half-sister__? It seems so—_then their lips touched, and my mind was too freaked out to say anything else on the subject.

_He's growing up, Max, _the Voice told me, providing a commentary backdrop, _You're all growing up. _

All I did was shake my head slowly in reply, my gaze still fixated on the awkward couple as their lips continued to move in synch with each other's. _I guess he really did have a reason to brush his teeth. _And with that I slinked away and went back into the house, feeling slightly sick to my stomach.


	3. Chew, Part I

**Chew, Part I  
><strong>

_In which Max bites off more than she can chew._

"Face it Max, there's no way you could keep up with me in an eating contest."

I raised my eyebrows at Iggy and gave him a long, hard stare. "Oh really?" I said, "And why not? I can do everything else that you can do—_and_ I can do it better!" _Except cook, and build crazy bombs, and scare everyone with freaky superhuman blind guy senses..._

Iggy just snorted condescendingly, and told me, "Don't get me wrong, Max, you can kick my butt any day of the week and I know it, but you just don't have the stomach capacity for it. You're a _girl_."

"Hey, I can eat just as much as you can!" I told him, "And probably more!"

"Sure Max," Iggy smirked, "Keep telling yourself that."

I glared at him indignantly for a moment, before turning to Fang, who was sitting on the adjacent couch reading a book. "Fang, what do you think?"

"I can't believe you two are even arguing about this," he replied, without looking up from his page.

"Oh, come on," Iggy prodded, "You must have _some_ opinion on this. You've been sitting there the whole conversation, after all."

Fang sighed, and lowered his book onto his lap. "Well, let's see," he started, turning to me, "Iggy is bigger than you, Max, which means he probably has a bigger stomach and a bigger appetite. He also burns more calories than you do, since he's male and converts more food energy to muscle." He shrugged, "Sorry Max, but chances are Iggy can eat more than you can. And he usually does eat more, too."

"But I wasn't _trying_ to eat as much as him then!" I pointed out. "If I was trying, I could totally out-eat Iggy!"

Fang just looked at me. "And what advantage do you have over Iggy that I'm missing?" His mouth twitched slightly in amusement.

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm the incredible Maximum Ride," I replied snidely, "I'm strong, stubborn, and my willpower can outdo Iggy's stomach power any day."

"That sounds like a challenge to me," Iggy spoke, the competitive gleam in his eyes matching the glint in his smile.

"Why not," I declared, "After all, it seems that _someone_ needs to be put in his place."

"And while we're at it," he added with a mischievous smirk, "let's make things a bit more interesting."

"Interesting how?"

"Let's make a bet: loser has to do the winner's bidding for a whole day."

I grinned; this was going to be good. "It's a deal. Now, somebody show me the food; I have a cocky bird boy to defeat."

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><p>Fast-forward to the next afternoon, where Iggy and I are standing together at the kitchen table, surrounded by Big Macs. Lots and lots of Big Macs. "Whoa, guys," I said, eyeing the piles of greasy, paper-covered burgers, "You got a bit much here, don't you think?"<p>

"Funny," Iggy remarked with a slight smirk, skimming his fingers over a pile of artery-clogging goodness, "I thought the stacks seemed a bit on the small side."

I gritted my teeth for a moment, but then I forced myself to loosen up and answer sweetly, "I know that _I _can handle the Macs; I just don't want you to make yourself sick trying to keep up with me."

"I don't think that'll be a problem." Iggy sat down in his seat, looking very self-assured and smug, and I sat next to him, more determined than ever to leave him in the burger-munching dust.

"Alright," Total began, pacing across the table, "I'm going to repeat the rules one more time before we begin." Total had been elected official referee; I guess it was his job to make sure we weren't stuffing burgers down our shirts and claiming we'd eaten them, or however else a person could cheat at a contest like this. "Max and Iggy each have twenty burgers to eat, taking however long or short of a time as they want—time will only be taken into account if there is a tie. Otherwise, whoever eats the most hamburgers without vomiting wins."

I glanced at Iggy out of the corner of my eye, feeling the slightest bit nervous. Everyone in the Flock ate a lot, but not even we normally packed down twenty Big Macs in a sitting. I averaged two, three, _maybe_ four burgers at a time; these days Iggy was eating an upwards of five or six. Still, I was up for the challenge. I was not letting some boy beat me, especially not at something as easy as eating hamburgers!

"Alright," Total asked us, "are you both ready?"

"Sure," Iggy replied nonchalantly.

I nodded firmly. "Bring it."

"Then you may both begin," he declared.

No sooner than he'd spoken both me and Iggy were tearing into our first Macs. I swear, Iggy practically ate his first burger with the wrapper still on! I too bit into my burger with ferocious vigor, scarfing it down like an Eraser devouring a chunk of raw meat. I had starved myself all day for this contest, so the first six or so burgers settled in my stomach with pleasant ease. I was even a couple of burgers ahead of Iggy, which puffed up my pride and motivated me to keep going.

However, by the time I had reached the eighth burger I was starting to feel a little funny. Nothing too uncomfortable yet, but I was definitely feeling _full_. After years of meager laboratory portions and scrounging through dumpsters for meals, fullness was usually a sensation I treasured. Not today, though. Today it was just an obstacle to be overcome.

"You're looking a little stuffed, Max," Iggy remarked between chews, "I hope those burgers aren't settling bad with you."

I noticed, much to my annoyance, that he was catching up to me in burger count. "How would you know, blind boy?" I replied curtly, grabbing another Big Mac and ripping the wrapper off. Internally, though, I was starting to wish that I hadn't wolfed down those first few hamburgers so quickly. The speed advantage I'd had in the beginning was starting to catch up to me on an internal level.

And so it went on, burger by burger. The Flock cheered us on the entire time, (minus Fang, though you could tell he was greatly entertained by the whole situation) and Total watched us closely with this keen referee eyes. At burger number twelve Iggy finally caught up to me, but I knew at that point he was feeling as sick to the stomach as I was. _Good_. That meant it was only a matter of outlasting him.

As it turned out, however, outlasting him was a lot harder than I thought it'd be.

"The contestants are now on their nineteenth burgers!" Total declared excitedly. Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel continued to root and applaud.

"When did you become sports announcer, anyways?" I mumbled irritatedly into my Mac. Total glared and said something else to me, but by then I was too far gone to pay any attention to him. It was taking all my powers of concentration to finish the burger bite by nauseating bite, miserably swallowing every new mouthful of processed beef, lukewarm mustard, and bone dry sesame seed bun. _Bite, chew, swallow. Bite, chew, swallow._ That was the only thing going through my mind, other than the firm resolution that I was going to slaughter Iggy afterwards for letting him talk me into this. I had no idea how I had managed not to throw up yet, since at that point my stomach felt like it had been stuffed with old socks soaked in sour milk.

All the same, I packed down my nineteenth Big Mac without incident, and then I turned to face Iggy to see how he was doing. He too was finished his nineteenth Mac, his green-tinged cheeks rippling as he gnawed on the remnants of his latest eat. He turned to face me also, and even though his eyes were as defocused as ever, I could tell he was trying to stare me down. "Ready to give up yet, Max?" He muttered, his heavy voice betraying just how queasy he was.

Despite how sick I also felt, I still managed to smirk at him. "Not a chance."

"Final burger!" Total announced gleefully, "Speed counts for this round, so whoever finishes their burger first is the victor!"

_That's all I need to hear._ Iggy and I snatched up our last burgers and hastily and ripped off the paper. I stuffed half of my Mac into my mouth as fast as I could, trying to chew and swallow it all at once. My stomach was doing cartwheels and I felt as if I was being suffocated with my own hamburger, but I was making headway. Glancing over at Iggy, I knew that I was coming up on top this time; he was miles behind me. Victory was mine!

...And then halfway through my burger I choked.

* * *

><p>*grin* Of the stories I've written for this collection thus far, this is probably my favorite. I'm excited to post part two-which leads me to my next point. I'm going to try something different with this series: reader reliant update posting; that is, the more reviews I get, the sooner I'll post another story. As it stands now I plan on updating next Friday, but if I get a total of fifteen reviews (roughly five per story) I'll bump it to this Wednesday. And, for every three reviews after that, I'll bump my update forward another day. Sound fair? I think it is.<p>

Oh, and Happy Canadian Thanksgiving everyone! :D


	4. Chew, Part II

Hmmm... it seems my quota has not been met. Ah well, the offer still stands: give me fifteen reviews and I'll post on Wednesday instead of Friday, and I'll post a day earlier for every two reviews after that.

And now for the conclusion of "Chew"! (I'll admit, out of the six or so oneshots I've written so far for this project, this one's my favorite. ^_^ It makes me laugh.)

* * *

><p><strong>Chew, Part II<br>**

_In which Max has a misadventure in proselytization.  
><em>

Now, I'm sure most people who make a habit of ingesting food know that eating too quickly can cause things to go down the wrong tube, resulting in mad and uncontrollable coughing that lasts until the food is dislodged. Normally this situation isn't much more than a minor annoyance. But, as it turns out, when you've eaten nineteen and a half greasy, mass-produced hamburgers, the violent tensing and spasming associated with coughing is enough to set off an already destabilized gastrointestinal system. Even while the bile was rising as I hacked and gasped for air, I desperately commanded my stomach, _You will not puke! You are Maximum Ride and you will not_—and then I yakked up all over Total, the table, and the floor, bringing an end to my burger-eating frenzy.

Nudge and Angel screamed, seeing the kitchen was now coated by regurgitated burger juice. "Ew!"

Gazzy's face wrinkled up. "Gross," he remarked, stepping further away from the puke puddle.

"My fur!" Total cried. He almost looked like he'd been up-chucked along with the burgers.

A bad taste lingered in my mouth, I was covered in my own sick, and my unsettled stomach was about ready to throw up again. Fang, who took pity on me in my pathetic state of defeat, helped me from my barf-covered seat and gently led me towards the bathroom. "Come on, Max," he told me, sighing, "let's get you cleaned up."

"That's what happens when you eat your food too quickly, Max," Iggy called to me from the table, smiling triumphantly as he gulped down the last bit of his hamburger. Feeling too sick to be angry, I whimpered softly and let Fang lead me away. I was never going to live this one down.

* * *

><p>"If it means anything, Max, I was highly impressed by your effort," Iggy remarked, leaning against the brick building I was standing in front of, "I mean, I was sure that you were going to be a goner way before burger number twenty!"<p>

"I hate you," I grumbled miserably as I stood on the sidewalk, wearing the stupid outfit Iggy had instructed me to wear.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm not that bad," Iggy insisted, "I even gave you a whole day off before your twenty-four hours of servitude!"

"That's because we were both too sick to our stomachs to get out of bed!" I growled.

"Eh. It was worth it." Just then he perked up, and a smile crossed his face. "Hmmm, I think I hear somebody coming. How does she look, Fang?"

"Like a complete nutcase," he replied with a grin.

"Perfect."

I sighed. To add insult to injury, Iggy had brought Fang along to stand with us and make sure I wasn't flaking out on the bet. You'd think Fang of all people would cut me some slack, but noooo, he says I let my pride get the best of me and that I had it coming. Plus, I think he _wanted_ to see me make a royal fool out of myself. Some friend he is.

"Alright Max, here he comes. Remember, you need to be friendly and _bold_ about your faith—you are a light to the world! Oh, and make sure you're smiling. Is she smiling, Fang?"

Fang gave me a firm look, and reluctantly I donned the phoniest, most cheerful smile I could muster. "Yup, she's ready to go."

From between clenched, smiling teeth I muttered, "One of these days you two are going to fall sleep and never wake up." Then, without further ado, I walked up to my first victim and declared in a happy-happy voice, "Hello sir, I'd like to talk to you a moment about the Way of Iggy."

"Whaaa...?" The man stared at me as if I was a psycho, taking in my elaborate feather headdress, brightly painted face, and my bold-lettered sandwich board reading, "**Iggy Is the Light of the World!**"

"Yes," I continued enthusiastically, "You see, Iggy, the great sky god, has chosen me as one of his prophets, and I—"

"—Do your parents know where you are, young lady?"

I feigned a sad expression. "My parents never saw the love and perfection of Iggy, but it's because of their waywardness that I feel compelled to share my message with you, to save you from a similar fate. You see, Iggy is a superior winged being who flies around the world trying to make people's lives better, and if we all believe in him and offer him sacrifices the world will live in harmony and—"

"This is all very fascinating," he cut me off, "But I have to get to work and—"

"At least take one of my pamphlets?" I had been up all night typing up phony religious pamphlets that extolled Iggy's praises, much to my fury. The man didn't seem to appreciate my effort, however, because without saying another word he turned around began walking away at a very brisk pace. I sighed in relief. The humiliation was over... for now.

But, of course, then Iggy cleared his throat and oh so kindly reminded me, "Now Max, what do you have to say when a non-believer walks away?"

_I am going to kill Iggy when this is over._ Taking a deep breath, I called out after the man, "Woe is you, unbeliever! I am one of Iggy's chosen brides, and when this world is destroyed by wild donkeys he will take me and the rest of his followers to create a new civilization! Your children will never be counted amongst the Iggyites!" That, of course, only prompted the poor guy to walk faster, while Iggy and Fang continued to convulse behind me in silent, hysterical laughter. I swear, tears were forming in their eyes!

"Oh, you think that's real funny, don't you!" I whined, "Look, I did not agree to _this_ when I took the bet. Haven't I done enough already?"

"Please, we haven't even started!" Iggy said, pausing between laughing fits, "It's early, and most of the stores aren't even open yet. There are still hundreds of souls that need to be shown the Way of Iggy before the day is out!" Then he resumed his previous cackling.

I was half-tempted to make a run for it while the boys were still doubled over with laughter, but I knew Angel was sitting in a nearby diner eating breakfast with the others, and that if I tried anything she'd probably use her mind powers to foil my attempts.

_You're probably right, Max,_ Angel said sweetly, _After all, if we let you get away, then we'd have nothing to record!_ Oh great, I'd forgotten that Fang was getting all of this on camera. I guess I know what video footage they'll be showing at _my_ wedding reception.

"Can I at least have some breakfast, then?" I complained, "You've had me up since midnight doing your evil bidding, and I'm starving!" Seven straight hours of slavery and embarrassment had caused me to build up quite an appetite.

"Sure Max," Fang replied, his facial composure still interrupted by an uncharacteristically wide smile, "I'll go grab you something. You in the mood for a Big Mac?" Fortunately, I had plenty of time to beat the snot out of Fang before the next unbeliever showed up.

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><p>XD So whadidja think? Be sure to review and let me know!<p> 


	5. Clench, Part I

**Clench, Part I**

_In which Fang endures an awkward dinner with the flock._

It was their first meal together since Paris.

At first Fang thought it was a good thing when Max invited him and his gang to dine with them at the restaurant located in the flock's hotel. It was a symbol of good will, he'd reckoned, a sign that even though they had to keep their distance, things were okay between them now. They wouldn't be exchanging Christmas cards anytime soon, but maybe one day they'd be like old high school sweethearts who bump into each other at the grocery store and swap photos of their kids. _Kids that they'd had with other people._

But now sitting there in the restaurant, his gang seated on one side of the table and Max's flock seated on the other, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was awry. Firstly, nobody at the table was talking to each other. There wasn't a peep from anyone, not even from Nudge. The only noise could be heard was the soft, half-hearted clinking of cutlery against dishware. That was another thing: the flock was barely touching their food, all of them seemingly without appetite. Now when had _that_ ever happened before?

The most uncomfortable part of the meal, though, was Max. Partially because, you know, she was Max, but also because she was acting weird. Ever since she'd shown up for dinner—seated as far away from Fang as possible, of course—she'd been sitting there with an uneasy expression on her face, eyes downcast (except when she was casting anxious sideways glances in his direction) and muscles tensed as if this were the last place she wanted to be. Her jaw was also clenched tightly, an angry/nervous habit of hers that had developed from of all her years of holding back screams, cries, and curses. And, if the degree of clenching was an indication of anything, she was extremely on edge today.

_What is up with her?_ Fang wondered. She hadn't been this bad the last time they'd rendezvoused, before Angel… well, _disappeared_ was a gentler way of putting it. Perhaps that was it: his presence reminded her of Angel's death. After all, what was one more bad memory for Max to associate with his face?

Of course, Max alone acting like a statue was one thing; that didn't explain why the rest of the flock was doing it too. Clenched teeth, anxious glances, uncomfortable, almost suspicious expressions on their faces... no wait, Dylan looked more angry than suspicious. _And just when I thought we were finally cool._ He couldn't blame the guy, Fang supposed; after all, his girlfriend _had_ called her ex (him) over for dinner. Talk about insecurity-inducing. But whatever, he wasn't looking to interfere. He thought he'd made that clear the last time.

"Fang." Fang was brought out of his observational trance by Maya's lowered voice, "Are you trying to crack a tooth, or did someone wire your jaw shut?" That's when he realized, somewhat foolishly, that he too was subconsciously clenching his teeth.

Forcing his jaw to relax, he took eyes off of the flock and tried to on something else. He turned his attention to Kate, who was now trying to start a conversation. "So, Max, what did you guys do after Paris?"

Max shrugged. "Nothing much. Headed back to the States to get some R'n'R before the Doomsday Group makes their next move."

"It's been a couple of months since we've heard anything," Maya noted.

"Yeah," Dylan replied quietly, "us too."

"I don't like it," Star spoke up, "I mean, we all know that they're just laying low while they figure out their next hit. The longer they keep quiet, the bigger the scheme, I figure."

"We think they might've been in Texas for a while," Nudge said, "But we never got a chance to check it out."

"That's what we thought too." Fang raised his eyebrow at Nudge. "But why didn't you go?"

She sputtered, then she blushed and fell quiet. "Stuff happened."

"We had another run-in with Dr. God," Iggy added, his expression somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. "He sort of… threw a monkey wrench into our plans."

"Fun." Who did he try to kill this time, Fang wondered.

"Can we talk about something else?" Max suddenly asked. "We didn't come here to talk about saving the world and all that garbage."

"Then why did we come here, Max?" Fang bore his eyes deep into hers for a moment, before she shied away and turned her attention back to the mound of veggies on her plate.

"I just… wanted to catch up. See how you guys have been doing." Max tried hard to smile, she really did, but her weak, tooth-gritting attempt just wasn't up to snuff. Especially not when Fang knew what beautiful smiles she was capable of smiling…

_Ugh, snap out of it, Fang!_ He scolded himself inwardly. "Well, we've been fine." This dinner had been a mistake, he decided. In no way was he ready for any sort of casual social interaction with Max. "Look, maybe we should just—"

"How has the blog been lately?" Nudge suddenly interrupted, "I mean, I usually check up on it, but it's been a while and I didn't have a chance to look today because Total was hogging the laptop since he had to stay in the room…" she was babbling at Fang, but her eyes kept darting back to Max, like she was trying to communicate some silent message. Still, Fang took the bait and let Nudge run him and everyone else at the table in conversational circles. Meanwhile, Max and Dylan retained their discomforted expressions.

_This is just getting painful. _Fang rolled his eyes inwardly as Nudge, Gazzy, Iggy, and Holden argued about favorite cartoon characters. There was something going on at this table, and it definitely had nothing to do with 'catching up'. Four times Fang tried to tell the flock he and the gang were ready to head out, only to have Nudge or Max cut him off—and each time they did it, the entire flock turned to Max like they were expecting her to do or say something. The whole situation was making Fang paranoid and extremely irritated.

Apparently Ratchet had been getting the same vibes, because he finally said, "Alright, alright! We know you guys are stalling us, so what gives?"

"Yeah Max," Dylan said, eyeing her coolly, "What gives?" Fang was taken aback. He had never seen Dylan so miffed with Max before. As far as he'd known prior, Dylan wasn't capable of feeling anything except loving adoration for her. Apparently that wasn't the case after all.

Drawing in a deep breath, Max glanced over everyone at the table. "I… it's just…"

Fang leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Is there something I should know about?"

"It's nothing," she replied unconvincingly, "Really."

"Max," Dylan whispered harshly, "Come with me. We need to talk." He took her hand and led her out of the dining area, towards the restrooms.

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence at the table, before Fang decided aloud, "I'm going to follow them and see what's up."

"Um, maybe that isn't such a good idea," Iggy objected, "It's kind of—"

"Iggy, something's obviously bothering you guys, and unless you plan on trying to stop me I'm going to find out what it is." Iggy made no move to keep Fang from leaving, so he slid past Maya and headed in the direction Max and Dylan had taken.

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><p>So, it's been another quiet week, review-wise. So sad. Remember, reviews are love! :) If you like the story let me know-you'll be my best buddy if you do! (Seriously, we can have sleepovers, and talk about boys, and do each other's nails, and dress up as vikings and rampage around town to traumatize the locals!) Come on, you know you wanna. ;)<p>

_"If you love something and you don't want anyone else to have it, kill it." - My little sister_


	6. Clench, Part II

Hey everyone! Okay, so when I proposed the whole more reviews = faster updating thing, I forgot to specify that I meant fifteen between updates, since when I said that it was the initial upload and it was three stories at once. Sorry for the confusion. Anyways, I'm posting early this week to clarify, and because I'm in a good mood. ^_^

I've also decided that from now on I'll update a day early for every five reviews I get after posting-these reviews can be for any of the chapters. Also, you can go back and review chapters that you didn't review before. ;) I'd love to hear what you liked/disliked about each story.

Oh, and** u.k. owen** (Thanks again for the reviews! You have a bit of an eye for detail, it seems) asked about my progress on my _Cutoff Chronicles: An Icy Blaze_ prequel. I know it's been a long time in the making, but I absolutely promise you it will be out before Christmas. I have to put my fanfiction on hold for NaNoWriMo, but the story is almost complete. I can also reveal that the title will be _Cutoff Chronicles: Dawn of Rebellion_. So stay tuned for that!

Anyways, back to the story!

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><p><strong>Clench, Part II<strong>

_In which Fang becomes even more confused._

Fang inched around the final corner with stealthy precision, willing Max and Dylan not to notice his shadowy presence as they whispered argumentatively between themselves.

"You said you were going to confront him!" Dylan scolded Max.

"I know, it's just… look, he's a loser for what he did, can't we just leave it at that?"

"Max, he's a _traitor_," Dylan whispered harshly, "Why are you defending him?" Fang's eyes narrowed. Great, he'd apparently been downgraded from deserting ex-boyfriend to traitorous scum.

"I'm not defending him!" Max's voice rose slightly. "I'm just saying that we should go our separate ways and forget about him. Besides, what if… what if it's not true?" her shoulders slumped slightly. "I just don't think he'd do something like that. It's not like him."

Dylan sighed, and put his arm around her comfortingly. Fang felt his jaw clench again. "Look, if he's innocent then this is the best way to find out, and if it turns out he didn't know about it... then what he has to say doesn't really matter anymore. Let's just go back to the table and get this over with, okay? Then you never have to see him again."

Max managed a small, half-hearted smile. "I doubt it'll be that simple, either way."

Dylan smiled back. "Yeah, but you know I'm here for you."

"I know."

Fang was morbidly tempted to watch the end of their little exchange (which would no doubt involve Dylan _kissing_ Max—he'd played the role of boyfriend long enough to know that much), but he knew he had to get back to the table quickly so Max and Dylan wouldn't know he'd left. He darted back into the dining room and slid back into his place at the table, just as the happy couple came back into sight. They took their seats, and Dylan shot Max a firm but encouraging look.

"So, Fang," she started casually, "As you already guessed, there's a specific reason I asked you to come today."

Fang swallowed nervously, but kept a straight face. "And what's that?"

"You see… um… well you know when Dr. Gunther-Hagen nearly killed you?"

"Yeah, actually, I do." _Just get on with it, Max…_ Fang was dying to know what on earth he had supposedly done to betray the flock.

"Well, when we saw Dr. G-H last time, he said some things about you..."

"Really. That's fascinating."

Max glared at him for a moment, but then she went on, "He said that he'd told you things before… you know, you almost died." Then she lost her nerve, and she started staring at the table and blushing. There was more clenching and unclenching in her jaw. "Y-you know what, I don't really want to talk about this in front of everyone. Can we speak privately, up in the hotel room?"

"Good idea, Max," Dylan nodded, "I'll come with you."

"Actually Dylan, maybe just me and Fang should talk for a while. Alone."

Dylan sighed, shaking his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Max," he said, eying Fang suspiciously.

Fang rolled his eyes. "Relax, Dylan, I'm not going to mack on your girlfriend."

"Fang!" Max's face was burning.

Dylan scoffed, "And how do I know that? After all, you _do_ have a track record of messing with Max's emotions. How do I know you're not going to do something stupid without thinking?"

"Look," Fang snapped, standing up from his seat, "I know I've made some mistakes along the way—"

"Yeah, actually, you have. Big ones!"

"—but why are you so angry all of a sudden? The whole flock has been looking at me funny all evening, and apparently I've done _something_ to get you all mad at me. But could you just _tell me what's wrong _already!" Fang realized (too late) that his voice had raised in volume a considerable amount and was attracting the attention of other restaurant diners.

Max shot Dylan a warning look, but he gave his head a quick shake in reply. The gloves were coming off. "Look, Fang," Dylan said, his voice dropping to a low growl, "We know the real reason you left the flock."

"What?" Fang wasn't sure what he meant by that. Was Dylan talking about the anonymous email he'd received? But that had only been a small part of his decision, and he'd told Max everything else in the letter. Plus, why would Dylan be so worked up about it?

Meanwhile, Max had seemingly changed her mind about explaining everything. "Dylan, stop," she begged, "Maybe he didn't—"

"No, Max!" Dylan thundered, standing so he was eye level with Fang, "We're going to settle this here and now." He clenched his fists and eyed Fang murderously. _First clenched teeth, now clenched fists? _

"Wait a minute," Fang raised his hands defensively, trying to defuse the situation, "_Settle this? _I haven't done anything worth settling!"

Dylan eyed Fang carefully. "So that's it then, you deny it?"

"Yeah, I do." Whatever 'it' was.

"See, everything's great!" Max stood up and tugged on Dylan's arm. "So let's just forget this dinner ever happened and—"

Dylan pulled away from Max's hold. "Max, he's lying! Can't you see?"

Fang stared at Dylan like he was running around with his hair on fire. "See _what?_" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I knew you were a rat from the first day I saw you," Dylan sneered, assuming a fighting stance. Fang suddenly became very aware of the scene they were causing. Why hadn't the restaurant manager come to break things up?

"Dylan, you're being ridiculous!" Max scolded him, also standing, "Fang doesn't know anything, so forget it. Let's just get out of here before we get kicked out of the hotel." She looked about angry enough to fight Dylan herself, but instead she wrapped her arms around her chest and glared at him sternly, waiting for him to back down.

For a minute Dylan seemed to relax, and the clenching stopped. However, as soon as Fang tried to leave the table Dylan's fist collided with his left eye. Fang cursed and fell backwards, landing hard in his seat. Now _that_ had been completely unexpected. What was Dylan's problem!

"Dylan!" Max screamed.

"He still deserves a beating, whether he knew or not," Dylan muttered, "But I still think Dr. Gunther-Hagen was telling the truth."

_I am going to strangle this idiot,_ Fang thought to himself.

"Look," Maya intervened, "Before a huge brawl breaks out in the middle of the restaurant, can someone at least explain what Fang did that was so bad?"

"He knows what he did," Dylan scoffed, "he can't be completely in the dark."

"No, you thick-skulled idiot, I don't know!" Fang was losing patience. "Just tell me what this is about already!"

A look of panic crossed Max's face, and she tried to stop Dylan from answering.

"Dylan, don—" But Dylan was too fast.

"_You left Max because she's pregnant, that's what this is about!_"

Fang's eyes grew to the size of saucers, all of his frustration suddenly dissipated. "She's _what?_"

A deathly silence filled the entire restaurant. Fang's gaze turned to Max, who he now realized wasn't crossing her arms over her chest, but rather her stomach—her slightly larger than usual stomach. The color drained from his face when he realized she wasn't denying it. "M-Max," he stammered, "Are you…?" But she didn't reply. Instead, Max turned and fled, arms still crossed protectively over her tummy. Without a moment's hesitation Fang stood up from the table and chased after Max, unsure what he would do or say when he caught up to her.

That left Fang's gang and the flock sitting at the table, the whole scenario now doubly awkward.

Rachet whistled. "Looks like Fang got himself a whole other boatload of problems to worry about," he said, shaking his head slowly.

"Told you he didn't know she was pregnant," Nudge muttered quietly.

"Real mature there, Dylan," Star snipped at him, "You just had to blow a gasket, didn't you?"

"I-I mean," Dylan fumbled for words, "I thought that—when he—"

"Oh, forget it!" Iggy grumbled, "Let's just agree to never trust any info Gunther-Hagen gives us ever again, and then get out of here before the manager shows up and has us arrested."

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><p>Alright alright, now before anyone starts screaming, "A cliche! How could you?" please believe me when I say that I agree absolutely that Max-gets-pregnant stories are the overdone bane of the archive. (Well, them and "no wings yet they're somehow still supposed to be MR characters" stories. But I digress.) I wrote this story as an experimentation of sorts, to see if I could isolate the "draw-in factor" of a cliche, the 5% of an overdone idea that's actually interesting, and then put a unique spin on it. Did I succeed, or am I just kicking a dead horse? Only you the readers can tell me that.<p> 


	7. Fang, Part I

Well, I got six reviews this time around, which means I'm updating a day early as promised. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to post all these multi-shot stories one after the other, but between NaNoWriMo and school I haven't had time to work on any of my oneshots for this fic. (Why must November be so busy? :( ) Don't worry, I plan on continuing to update throughout November-this one's a pre-written three-shot. XP Enjoy. **  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Fang, Part I<strong>

_In which Ella wonders how Fang got his name._

"…and we've been calling her Nudge ever since!" Everyone laughed as Iggy finished his story, even Nudge, who had originally objected to the telling.

"You guys have the weirdest back stories," Ella giggled, "though I think my favorite was the story about how you got your name, _Icky_."

Iggy smirked. "I'm just grateful that Max couldn't pronounce 'ck' noises when she was little."

It was Friday night, and Ella was chilling with the flock while her mom and Max were gone for the weekend, doing some sort of CSM promotional thing. So far they'd watched a movie, taken turns throwing each other off the roof (Ella sat out on that one), and now they were swapping childhood stories—namely, stories about how each of the flock members had gotten their names.

"Who I'm really curious about, though, is _Fang_," Ella grinned, "Tell us Fang, how did you end up with such a cool name?" Suddenly the table fell silent, and Fang's expression hardened. The grin faded from Ella's face. "What? Did I say something?"

Nudge frowned uncomfortably. "We… don't really talk about Fang's name. It's kind of a touchy subject."

"Oh." Ella blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"

"It's fine," Fang cut her off, "Let's just forget about it."

So they started talking about something else, and the atmosphere of laughter and talking soon returned, but for the rest of the night Ella couldn't shake off her new found curiosity. How did Fang get his name, and why wouldn't anyone talk about it?

Later, when everyone was heading to bed, Ella pulled Iggy aside as he was walking towards the staircase. "Hey Iggy," she said, "about Fang's name—"

"Don't worry about it," he told her, "Fang's not mad at you. He just doesn't like discussing it."

"Yeah," Ella replied, "about that... why is it so bad?"

Iggy hesitated. "I don't know if I should tell you."

"Please?" she whined, "I promise I won't say anything to anyone."

"Well…"

And then Fang walked in, causing Iggy and Ella to freeze. "Hey," he said to them, as calm and casual as ever, "Whatcha talking about?"

"Nothing much," Ella replied a little too quickly.

"Um, yeah." Iggy added unconvincingly, "We're just discussing stuff."

Then Ella declared, "I'm heading to bed now. Goodnight!" She quickly exited the room.

As soon as Ella was out of earshot Fang spoke, using a voice that was almost a growl. "I don't care if you make something up, but if you tell her what really happened I'm going to wring your neck."

"Fair enough," Iggy swallowed nervously. "Don't worry, I won't tell." Then he retreated upstairs. Fang narrowed his eyes, but quietly followed to go get ready for bed.

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><p>As soon as Iggy stepped into the kitchen the next morning Ella pounced, looking for answers. "So, can you tell me now?"<p>

Iggy was conflicted. He didn't want to lie to Ella, but he'd been around her long enough to know that she could be insatiably curious at times. She wouldn't quit poking around until she got an answer, and Iggy wasn't looking to bring Fang's wrath down upon himself—the last time he had brought up Fang's naming, back when they were eleven, Fang had pretty much beaten him to a pulp. Iggy was not looking for a repeat performance.

So, it was decided. Iggy was going to bluff his way through this one.

"Fine," Iggy sighed dramatically, "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but if you really want to know…"

_The dark-haired little boy huddled at the back of his dirty, cramped dog grate, shivering because the room was cold and all he had to wear was a dingy hospital gown. He was an underfed, animalistic, angry little tyke, who was in an especially vicious mood that day because he'd gotten a couple dozen needles to the backside. Plus, the annoying little brown girl in the crate next to his wouldn't stop making noises._

_Then, to make matters worse, another mean man in a white lab coat walked in, smelling like antiseptic and holding a giant syringe. "Okay, now who's going to get the needle today?" he chuckled, pointing it at each of them, "Is it your turn, little chatterbox? Or maybe it's blindie's turn. How about you, little Miss Maximum, are you in the mood for a needle?" Max growled and squirmed, retreating to the back of her cage. "Oh, well look at that," the whitecoat said with a sadistic grin, as he glanced over his clipboard, "It's the demon child's turn to get a shot. Hey brat boy, how's your hiney feeling after this morning's round of injections?" Snarling, the boy kicked the door of his crate and called the whitecoat a bad word the Erasers used. This, of course, only made the evil scientist angry. "Why you little—" he pushed the boy's crate off of the table, sending it crashing to the concrete floor._

_Though rattled by the fall, the boy quickly reoriented himself and realized the impact had caused the dog crate door to pop open. Taking advantage of the situation, he darted out and launched himself at the whitecoat, screeching and clawing at his tormentor. _

"_Get it off of me!" the scientist squealed like a stuck pig. For whatever reason, though, nobody came to restrain the little mutant boy, who toppled the man and continued to punch him as hard as he could. _

_But even though the boy was strong, he was also very light, and finally the whitecoat found the muscle and composure to throw the pipsqueak off and wrestle him into submission. "Enough!" he told the little monster, wrapping his arms around the boy's face and neck, "Or I'll strangle you myself—OW!" The boy sunk his teeth into the whitecoat's arm, biting in deep._

_Cursing, the man flung his arm out in an attempt to shake the boy loose, but the child was fastened on tight as he sunk his incisors deeper into the flesh. "You fanged freak!" He screamed, shaking his arm violently to no avail. The whitecoat continued to flail and jerk, like some sort of electrocuted monkey. _

_At long last backup arrived, and the wolfy Erasers attempted to wrench the mutant off of the scientist's arm, but pure willpower held the tyke onto the appendage. In the end it took three Erasers to rip the boy loose, and when he did come off he took a huge chunk of the whitecoat's arm with him. "I'm bleeding!" The man hyperventilated, blubbering like a baby, "He tore my arm open! That fang—ah!" The sight of his own blood pooling around him must have sent him into shock, because he collapsed onto the floor and lay there motionless, until a crew with a stretcher rushed in to take him away. _

_The boy was tossed back into his crate and he spat several times onto the floor, trying to get the taste of blood out of his mouth. The rest of the mess had already been cleaned up, but the image of the bleeding man was still burned inside his head. The other children were silent for a while, and when someone did speak only thing was muttered. "That Fang," the little brown girl said, imitating the whitecoat. _

_Quietly, Max and Iggy joined in muttering the phrase. "Fang, Fang, Fang…" Then Fang, as he had newly been christened, turned his back on them, haunted by the horrible, horrible thing he had just done. _

_None of them saw that whitecoat ever again._

Ella's eyes widened. "That's horrible!"

Iggy nodded solemnly. "It still really bothers him, so you have to promise you won't mention it to anyone—_especially_ to Fang. He doesn't like people asking about it."

"I promise," she agreed, nodding her head vigorously.

Then Iggy decided to change the subject. "Are you guys out of corn flakes? I can't seem to find any."

"I think we have some in the pantry," Ella recalled. "I'll go look."

While Ella was distracted, Iggy gave a low chuckle. He didn't think that telling Ella a dark, depressing, over-the-top back story would be so amusing. _I hope you're happy, Fang,_ Iggy thought to himself, _because now Ella thinks that you're a traumatized little whitecoat killer._ But hey, at least he put Ella's curiosity to rest once and for all.

Or so he thought.


	8. Fang, Part II

It's Wednesday, and I've gotten five reviews since my last update, but I decided to post today because I'm in a good mood. ^_^ You're welcome.

Oh, and someone was asking about what happens to Max after Clench. Well frankly, I'm not sure. :P It's a standalone story, with no real definitive context surrounding it. (Other than what's offered by the series, of course.) I suppose you'll have to decide what happens for yourselves-that way you can't blame me if it turns out cliche. ;)

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><p><strong>Fang, Part II<strong>

_In which Ella can't get a straight answer._

After her storytelling session with Iggy that morning, Ella had decided to be extra nice and understanding around Fang from now on. Sure, he might be dark and emo and annoyingly antisocial at times, but that poor guy had been through so much as a child. After all, he practically ripped that evil scientist to shreds when he was little—and the name 'Fang' haunted him because of it! How could he _not_ be affected by that?

Later that day Ella decided to make some cookies, and she set to work measuring out the ingredients and mixing them together. She had been further pondering Fang's emotionally-scarring name as she worked when Nudge walked into the kitchen. "Hey Ella!" she said, her usual cheery self, "Whacha doin'?"

"Baking cookies," she replied.

"Awesome! I love cookies—everyone in the flock does! Of course, you already knew that." Nudge grinned. "Any reason for baking them?"

Ella shrugged. "I guess I just thought they'd cheer you guys up."

Nudge cocked her head inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno, I guess with you guys always going through so much garbage, I thought a few cookies might brighten your day. It's stupid, I guess," Ella gave an embarrassed smile, "but I guess last night's awkward conversation got me thinking."

"Conversation?" Nudge looked puzzled for a minute, before her face lit up, "Oh, you mean the naming thing!" Ella nodded. "Oh yeah, well, don't worry about that, Fang's just a little uptight. It really wasn't that bad at all."

Ella was taken aback by Nudge's statement. Wasn't that bad? "But I thought—"

"Oh, he acts all stupid about it, but really it was—" suddenly Nudge stopped, spotting the slightest movement in the hallway shadows. A dark figure stood there, watching her attentively. _Oh-oh._ Fang was listening in.

"Nudge?" Ella looked at her strangely.

"Er, well," Feeling put on the spot, Nudge quickly improvised, "What happened was…"

_The big, mean, ugly Eraser chased little Max around the courtyard, snarling and saying, "Grrrrr, I'm gonna kill ya!" _

_Max, who was scared, tired, and annoyed all at the same time, shouted back, "No way, you're gross!" She was really sweaty and dirty and stuff, but her hair still looked awesome and her big brown eyes were all sparkly and—_

"Nudge, how do you know what Max looked like if you weren't even there?"

"Well I mean, I'm just guessing, but that's probably what she looked like. Anyways…"

_Even though Max was really fast the Eraser was gaining on her, and she knew she couldn't outrun him for much longer. If only she knew how to use her wings! But the whitecoats wouldn't let the Eraser eat her, would they? They wouldn't be that mean to a poor, mostly helpless, totally awesome little girl! _

_All of a sudden Max tripped, and just like that the Eraser was crouching over top of her and growling, "I'm going to rip out your guts and bake them into a casserole!" He laughed his evil, wolfy laugh, while Max was like, "Ew! Gross!"_

_But just as the Eraser was about to turn little Max into hamburger another bird kid jumped onto his back and yelled, "Get off of her, you big jerk!" Then he poked the Eraser in the eyes and kicked him really hard in the butt._

"_Owww!" the Eraser howled, falling to the ground. The little boy punched and kicked the Eraser again and again, hitting his face and stomach and all over until blood and teeth and all that gross stuff started coming out. _

_When the Eraser stopped moving, the boy went over to Max and helped her off of the ground. "You totally just saved me!" Max exclaimed, "That's so awesome. My name is Maximum, by the way. What's your name?"_

"_Don't have one," the boy shrugged, acting all dark and mysterious. _

"_Well you need to have a name!" Max declared. "Say, how do you feel about Rocky?"_

"_No."_

"_Jeffery?"_

"_No."_

"_Armadillo!"_

"_...Isn't that an animal?"_

"_Yeah, but I mean it could still totally be a name, and it starts with an 'A', which is a super awesome letter and—"_

"Nudge, the story?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Anyways…"

"_Look," Max exclaimed, "You won't decide on a name, so I'm going to have to give you one." She looked around for ideas, and saw one of the Eraser's pointy teeth lying on the ground. She picked it up and looked at it. "Hey, how about we call you Fang!"_

_The boy blinked a few times, then answered, "Sure, why not." And so he's been Fang ever since._

"Okay…" Ella looked at Nudge, more than a bit incredulous. "But that doesn't explain why Fang doesn't like to talk about it."

Nudge tensed up, looking really nervous. "Oh, right! Um… then after that the Eraser woke up and beat him so hard that he crapped his pants, which is why he's so embarrassed now. The end!" Then she scuttled out of the kitchen before Ella could question her any further.

_That's strange, _Ella thought to herself. Clearly Nudge hadn't been telling the truth. But why would she lie to her like that?

Gazzy was the next flock member to make a stop through the kitchen, right when Ella was putting the cookies into the oven. "Got any cookie dough left?" he asked her.

"Here, you can lick these," she said, handing him the spoons she'd used. "Say, Gazzy…"

"Yeah?" he replied, tongue poised to lick the cookie-coated utensils.

"I know you're not really supposed to talk about it, but could you tell me how Fang got his name?"

Gazzy quietly considered her request, then said, "Well…"

_Once upon a time, this one little kid (we all know it's Fang, but he wasn't named Fang yet so we'll just call him a kid) was being tested on because he had wings. This really annoyed him, so one day he stood on top a table in the middle of the laboratory and shouted, "Ha! You idiot whitecoats can't catch me!"_

"_Don't you try anything," the whitecoats warned him, "Or we'll strap you to a table and cut you up with lasers!" _

"_Nooo!" he screamed, running around and trying to escape, but then the whitecoats brought out giant butterfly nets and scooped him up off of the table. Though he squirmed and struggled, the boy could not get free. _

"_Mwah-hah-hah!" the whitecoats laughed._

_They were just about to slice the kid open with a giant knife when suddenly one of the walls exploded, revealing a huge army of super big, super buff army dudes with giant guns and sweet moustaches. "We are the ultra-epic Mega Beta Super-Fang Destroyer Squad X-335, and we're here to save you!" _

At this point Ella cut Gazzy off. "This story isn't anywhere close to the truth, is it?"

"Nope. Fang threatened to kill me if I told you."

Ella covered her eyes wearily and shook her head. "And I'm guessing that Fang's name also has nothing to do with attacking a whitecoat or getting beaten up by an Eraser."

Gazzy shook his head and continued his story.

_The Mega Beta Super-Fang Destroyer dudes attacked the whitecoats, shooting them and blowing them up and lighting their hair on fire with their awesome flame throwers. "You guys are awesome!" the kid said, "I wish I could be like you!"_

"_Well maybe someday you can be," one of the Destroyers said, "As long as you can grow an awesome mustache and hold a big gun."_

_The boy declared, "From now on my name is going to be Mega Beta Super-Fang Destroyer—Fang for short! And when I'm all big and buff like you guys I'm going to help you save the world."_

"_We look forward to it, Fang," they said, "But now we have to leave. We left our magic unicorns in a no-parking zone, and we need to save the beautiful Princess Christabelle from a big, mean dragon that's attacking her castle!"_

"Angel!" Gazzy whined, "Stay out of my story!"

"It needed a woman's touch," Angel declared, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"I give up," Ella sighed, "I'll just ask Max when she gets home." She loved the flock like family, but why were they so _weird_ sometimes?


	9. Fang, Part III

Okay, I know that I should've updated yesterday, and I am extremely sorry for forgetting, but I solemnly swear I have a good excuse: I was studying for a biology test all evening. Yup, that's right, instead of working on NaNoWriMo or pleasing my wonderful readers with an update, I had to study photosynthesis and cellular respiration. Not fun. (Needless to say, I don't think I'll be pursuing a career in biology.)

But really, truly, I am grateful for the reviews—seven since the last update, that's a record! And without further ado, here is the conclusion to my three part not-a-oneshot,_ Fang_!

* * *

><p><strong>Fang, Part III<strong>

_In which Max tells the _real_ story behind Fang's name._

"...so then I said to the guy, 'It _is_ a shame that the ocean's being destroyed... too bad your company dumps raw sewage into it on a regular basis.'" Max rolled her eyes, "I mean really, why do business people even show up to these meetings when everyone knows that they're the ones wrecking the planet?"

Ella grinned. "Wish I could've been there to see his face when you said that." Max and their mom had gotten back from the CSM meeting that afternoon, and they'd all spent the rest of the day getting caught up on all the latest 'save the planet' news and such. Ella and Max were currently in Ella's room, talking and hanging out and being all sisterly-like.

As fun as it was, Ella still hadn't given up on finding out about Fang's name. She hadn't bothered to ask any of the other flock members again, since they were determined not to give her a straight answer—and obviously Fang wasn't going to tell her, since he was the one who had scared the others into silence in the first place. That left Max as her last possible source of information. "Hey Max?" Ella asked tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"I know it's none of my business, and it's obviously a touchy subject since everyone in the flock has been too frightened and secretive to talk about it, but it's been driving me crazy all weekend and now I'm dying to know," Ella realized she was rambling, and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Um, how did Fang get his name?"

Max raised her eyebrows. "The flock was _what?_" Ella quickly explained to Max everything that had happened. Once she was done, and Max rolled her eyes. "Of course. Hang on a second, El." Then she dashed downstairs, leaving Ella alone in the bedroom.

From down in the living room Ella could hear Max scolding Fang, his heated complaints cut off by Max's interjections of, "I can't believe you got the entire flock to lie for you!" and, "You're acting like a child!" After a couple of minutes things fell silent again, and Max marched back into the room.

"Fang makes way too big a deal out of his name," Max grumbled, rolling her eyes, "I keep telling him just to laugh it off if someone makes jokes about it, but no, he still has to make a big, embarrassing secret out of it."

Ella blinked. "So, his name?"

"Oh, right." Max smirked slightly, considering for a moment. "As long as you promise not to tell anyone—"

"I promise!" Ella exclaimed.

"Fine. Now where do I begin?" Max wondered aloud. "Well, I guess I should probably start by telling you that his name wasn't originally Fang..."

"_Hey, Bucktooth!" young Iggy exclaimed, shuffling around in his dog crate, "I bet you could eat your way through the metal bars with if you tried!" He made a series of silly gnawing noises."Gnagnagnagnagna!" Bucktooth, as usual, scowled at him sourly._

"_Shut up, Iggy," Max told him, rolling her eyes. _

"_I'm just saying!"Iggy said, "If he ate his way through the cage, and the Gasman let a really big one rip—"_

"_Gazzy's just a stinky baby, Iggy. Nobody's afraid of a stinky baby." As if on cue, the smelly little infant gurgled from across the room. "Besides, Bucktooth's teeth aren't _that_ big." Okay, Max admitted silently, maybe they __were__ that big. But her lie was a lie of kindness. _

_Iggy sighed, "You're no fun, Max! Why don't you like playing pretend anymore?" Most little kids liked to make believe they were doctors or teachers when they were having fun. Bird kids liked to come up with imaginary escape plans instead. _

"_Because it's stupid," Max declared, "Right, Bucky?" Bucktooth nodded silently in agreement. _

"_Uh-oh," Nudge whispered, her tiny muscles tensing up, "Here dey come!"_

_All four of the crated kids sat at attention as the two whitecoats walked in their direction; even baby Gazzy seemed to still as they approached. They strolled across the room at a leisurely pace, like they were simply passing through. All of the children held their breaths nervously, waiting for them to leave, but just as it seemed like they were in the clear..._

"_Hey Wilson," one of the whitecoats pointed out, "There's that experiment you were telling me about, right? The one with the insanely big teeth?" He pointed squarely at Bucktooth. _

"_Yeah, Johnson, that's him." Wilson grinned, stopping to tap the side of the dog crate. "How you doin', little fella?" Bucktooth gave a low growl in response. _

_Johnson laughed, "Not very friendly, is he? I just can't believe the dental records on this one!"_

"_His teeth were so big that at first we thought it was some sort of genetic defect," Wilson chuckled, "But all the tests came back fine, and his adult teeth seem to have developed normally, so now we're just waiting for this little guy to lose his baby teeth."_

"_Any chance I could take a look for myself right now?"_

"_Nah, this one's a whirlwind without the Erasers to keep a handle on him," Wilson answered as they resumed walking, "but stop by during his next dental check-up and I'll let you have a peek..." they left the room, chatting idly as they continued down the hall. _

_Max scoffed in disgust. "Ignore them, Bucky, they're both—" she used a really, really bad word to describe them. Bucktooth just sighed in response. _

_Max felt really bad for her dark-haired friend. After all, it wasn't his fault that he had the teeth of an oversized beaver. "You heard what the whitecoat said," she encouraged him, gesturing to the gaps in her own smile, "When your teeth start falling out like mine you'll grow normal ones!" _

"_Doesn't fix the dumb name," he mumbled, lips barely parted as he spoke. _

"_Well names can be changed!" Max declared, "If you think your name is stupid then you should get a new one."_

"_No way!" Iggy interjected, "You can't just _change_ your name. It's weird!"_

"_Let 'im change it!" Nudge advocated, "I wanna help him pick a new one!" _

"_C'mon, Iggy," Max coerced, "We can all help."_

"_Fine," he grumbled, "but I still say it should be a tooth-related name."_

"_Chompy!" Nudge squealed._

_Max wrinkled her nose. "Ew, no way." It was easy to tell that Bucktooth agreed with her. "How about... Molar?" Bucktooth shook his head. "Tooth?" Another head shake._

"_How about we keep calling him Bucktooth," Iggy suggested, "but we give him a really awesome last name, like Lord of Darkness or Eraser-Killer?"_

"_Silly Iggy," Nudge giggled, "Nobody uses last names!"_

"_Except the whitecoats," Max muttered. "Next idea?" And even though they spent at least an hour discussing amongst themselves, they still couldn't come up with an agreeable name for Bucktooth. _

"_I give up!" Iggy sighed, "He's going to be Bucktooth forever." Bucktooth, of course, frowned deeply at this proposition. _

"_Sorry, Bucky," Nudge tried to console him._

_Max, however, wasn't quite ready to give up on the subject. It was now or never, she figured, and she wasn't about to leave poor Bucky with a dud name. She thought Iggy had been kind of right before, when he said that the name should be toothy—'Bucktooth' was rather cruel, but it only seemed right that whatever they called him was somewhat connected. His teeth had always been one of his defining qualities, after all. _

_This gave Max an idea. "Hey Bucky," she ventured, "could you smile please?" Bucktooth stared at her like she'd just asked him to perform open heart surgery while juggling chainsaws. He shook his head fervently. "Please?" Max begged, putting on a pouty face, "Just once, and I __promise__ I won't laugh."_

_A conflicted expression crossed Bucktooth's face, and finally he relented with a sigh. The sides of his mouth curled up awkwardly as he tried to grin, revealing an oversized, overcrowded set of teeth, so big and ill-fitted that it almost looked like someone had shoved a big pair of joke dentures into the poor kid's mouth. Nudge giggled, and the clumsy smile quickly disappeared again._

There has to be something good about those teeth,_ Max was adamant, _I will think of one reason why Bucktooth's teeth are awesome._ She called up the picture of his smile in her mind, going over it over and over: his big incisors were goofy and distracting, so that was no good, and you couldn't really see the teeth at the back of his mouth. His canines were really big too, kind of like the fangs on a big, scary monster—which actually sort of made sense. Stupid teeth aside, Bucktooth could be pretty scary-looking when he wanted to be. _Hey, wait a minute! _Max pondered that trail of thought for another moment, and then announced, "Let's call him Fang."_

"_I like it," Nudge declared, nodding firmly, "He looks like a Fang!"_

"_Yeah, I guess it's cool," Iggy remarked. "But why 'Fang'?"_

"_Because it suits him," she affirmed, "It's cool, toothy, and we can make stupid vampire jokes about him." She shot maybe-Fang a jovial grin, which he returned with an amused smirk and a slight nod. "It's official, then!" Max announced, "Bucktooth's new name is Fang!" _

"_Now he just needs to lose those dumb teeth already," Iggy muttered, "Do you think the whitecoats will have to pull them out?"_

Ella pursed her lips together in order to hold back a giggle. Tall, dark, stoically handsome Fang—complete with the intense gaze and killer smile—got his name because he had weird teeth when he was little? It was impossible to imagine. "That's... wow," she stifled more laughter, "I never would've guessed that in a million years."

"I know right?" Max grinned, then shot Ella a sober stare. "But seriously, no telling anybody else. It's a flock secret."

"Got it," Ella nodded, "My lips are sealed."

"Good." Max stood up to leave. "Well, that's enough talking for now. I'm going to go see what's going on downstairs."

* * *

><p>Just as she had predicted, Max found Fang sulking by himself in the kitchen, eating something that he'd dug out of the fridge. "Relax," she told him, leaning against the doorway, "Ella promised not to tell anyone."<p>

"Yeah," Fang scoffed, glaring down at his food, "because middle school girls are great at keeping secrets." He impaled a meatball harshly with his fork.

Max sighed, and then moved to take the seat beside him. "Look, it's only as humiliating as you make it out to be. And quite frankly, I'd be more embarrassed of those ridiculous stories the rest of the flock made up to cover for you.

"Besides," she grinned, "I think the real story gives you character." Fang shot her an incredulous look. "Either way, nobody's going to find out about your deep, dark secret anytime soon."

A slight smirk crossed Max's face, as she pondered old memories. "You know, I still have no idea how you ended up with 'Bucktooth'." she shook her head, "It never suited you, even with the oversized teeth."

"Fate is cruel sometimes," Fang muttered flatly in reply.

"That it is, Bucky," Max smiled wryly, "That it is."

* * *

><p>Okay, so basically I was inspired to write this story because of all the different theories out there about how Fang might've gotten his name. And by different, I mean mostly the same. They all involve Fang being traumatized by a scientist or Eraser, meeting Max for the first time, or some other dramaticFang-ish occurrence happening to him in the School. So I thought to myself, "What if Fang got his name for a really stupid and embarrassing reason?" Thus, this story was born.

Again, reviews equal love and faster updates, so please click that little button at the bottom of the page to express your amusement/approval/adoration/apathy/allergy problems while this troop of fanfiction monkeys performs a little dance in your honor. *monkeys begin dancing* They get paid a banana for every review, btw. So don't make the monkeys starve. :'(


	10. Smile

****Gaaahhh! Again, I've updated later than intended, but again I have a good excuse: it's November. Evil, painful, busy November.

Anyway, here's this week's story! (And it's actually a oneshot this time!)

* * *

><p><strong>Smile<strong>

_In which Iggy challenges Fang not to._

"You really think you're a big emo macho-man, don't you?"

Fang stopped typing and looked at Iggy, puzzled by the remark. "What are you talking about?" he asked flatly.

Iggy just rolled his eyes (who taught the blind kid how to roll his eyes, anyways?) and answered, "On your blog, you always make yourself look like Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected: you don't so much as blink in the face of danger, and when trouble comes your way you make it disappear with a shrug of your indifferent shoulders and a flip of your emo side bangs. _And_ you only smile on holidays and special occasions." Then he smirked, "But you're not such a goth. You may be quiet and unnaturally stiff-faced sometimes, but you still have emotions like the rest of us."

"I never said I didn't—"

"Hah! But you make sure that it's strongly implied." Iggy went on, "I bet your fangirls don't know about the time that Gazzy scared the crap out of you when he hid in your closet, or that you've borrowed non-dark t-shirts from me a thousand times when you had nothing to wear, or that your most listened-to song on iTunes is 'Vanilla Twilight' by Owl City. Not very tough and stoic of you, Fang."

Fang narrowed his eyes slightly. "What are you saying?"

"You, sir," Iggy accused, using a high official sort of voice, "are a poser of the highest order. You try to act all strong and silent because you think it makes you look cool, but really, you're just an average dude who needs to lighten up a little."

Privately Fang thought to himself, _Me, a poser? Hah!_ Outwardly, though, he just rolled his eyes and answered, "Whatever."

"So you deny trying at all to maintain your coveted emo boy image?" Iggy probed.

"Yeah, I do." But even as Fang said the words he knew it was a mistake, because Iggy's face lit up in devious satisfaction.

"Well you shouldn't have a problem proving yourself, then." Iggy cleared his throat. "On February twenty-first of this year, blog reader AnnaKabanna asked you, 'Are you really dark and emo like you seem on the blog?' Your reply: 'If wearing lots of black and not smiling on a daily basis makes me dark and emo, then sure, why not.'"

Fang grimaced. How on earth did Iggy have entire passages of his blog memorized? Clearly this conversation had been planned out far in advance. "Yeah, I wrote that," he replied carefully, "what's the issue?"

"You may not be the most cheery person in the world," Iggy pointed out, "but you still crack a smile if there's a reason to. I can _hear_ you smiling, lots of times, and it's not as rare an occurrence as you've made your followers think."

"So I exaggerated a little, so what? It's not a big deal."

"Ah-hah! You admit to lying to your readers to make yourself look more stoic and macho!" Iggy smirked as Fang struggled to find a good answer.

"I... wouldn't call it _lying_..." he trailed off unconvincingly.

"So you still deny it?"

"...Yes."

"Fine," Iggy told him, "then I dare you not to smile for an entire day."

Fang raised his eyebrows. "Really."

"If you can do it, I'll give you fifty bucks; if not, you pay me fifty," Iggy shrugged innocently, "You said yourself that you don't smile on a daily basis. If you were telling the truth about not trying to be emo on purpose, then it shouldn't be a problem for you, right? Easy money."

Fang scowled, realizing that he'd backed himself into a corner. "Okay," he replied, "Why not."

"It's a deal, then," Iggy declared. "What time is it now, anyways?"

Fang checked the time on his laptop. "Five o'clock."

"You have twenty-four hours to go, Fang," Iggy replied, standing up to leave, "Try not to watch the Comedy Network in the meantime." And then he slinked away, like the devious little weasel he was.

The rest of that evening passed by without incident. The only time Fang really left his room was to eat supper, which despite its normal shenanigans hadn't been too much of a struggle to endure. Still, Iggy had been uncharacteristically quiet at the table, and Fang knew very well what that meant: he had to be devising some sort of no-good scheme to ensure he'd win this bet.

And, when Fang got out of bed the next morning...

"Faaaang!" Angel whined, "Gazzy is sticking his peas up his nose!"

Fanag shook his head and sighed in annoyance; it was too early for this. "Gaz, why are you eating peas at eight in the morning?" He looked over at the younger boy, whose nose was plugged with vegetative congestion.

"I cabn shoot 'dem oubt by dnose dnow!" He replied stuffily, "Bwatch me!" Covering one nostril with his thumb, Gazzy tilted his head back to give him a clear shot of the fridge, which, Fang now noticed, had a paper target taped onto it. "Fire!" he called, pursing his lips shut and blowing his nose as hard as he could.

True to his word, the pea came shooting out at high speed, and Fang narrowly missed getting hit as it zoomed by and bounced off the center of the target. "Ew!" Angel exclaimed, taking up her plate, "I'm out of here!" Then she left, looking for another part of the house to eat in.

"Very nice," Fang replied, a smile nearly creeping onto his face. That was when Iggy's bet came to mind, and he forced his mouth to go slack. No way was he losing out that easily, especially so early in the day.

But then Nudge walked through the doorway, just as Gazzy was trying to hit a lamp in the hallway behind her. The pea arced through the air and pinged into the side of her head, snaring in her tangle of dark curls. "Eeek!" Nudge screamed, batting at her frizzy, bed-headed locks, "It's stuck in my hair! Gazzy just shot something green and gross into my hair!"

Gazzy cackled at his most amusing misfire. "I'm shooting peas out of my nose, and I hit you with one by accident!"

"Ewwww!" Nudge finally shook the slimy pea out of her hair and then ran over to the sink, turning on the water and scrubbing that section of her hair like crazy while Gazzy continued to guffaw in childish amusement. Again, Fang felt the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, but he forced himself to retain composure. _It's not that funny,_ he told himself, _even if Gazzy does look like an insane maniac, and Nudge looks like she's ready to have a panic attack... heh... no, stop it!_ Without stopping to grab anything to eat, Fang retreated from the kitchen before anyone else could show up and amuse him.

The rest of the morning wasn't much better. On the way up to his room, Fang encountered a dead-faced Max drudging down the hallway like an ogre, only to don a wide-eyed look of surprise when she tripped over Total and went crashing face-first to the floor. On his way to a visit to the bathroom, he glanced into the Gasman's room and saw that Angel had put his hair into pigtails while he was playing video games, when he couldn't use his preoccupied hands to swat her away. Then, when his stomach finally got the best of him and he wandered downstairs to find something to eat, he walked in on Iggy and Gazzy doing their television character impersonations. Iggy's were poorly done in comparison to the Gasman's, of course, but they were hilarious nonetheless.

"What's up, doc?" Gazzy did a dead-on impression of Bugs Bunny.

"Hey Fang," Max said, speaking over the ruckus of laughter, "Come to join in on the fun?"

Shrugging, Fang answered, "I'm just grabbing something to eat." He made a beeline for the refrigerator.

"Come on, Fang," Iggy goaded, "You've been up in your room all day! Hang out with us for a while." He smiled tauntingly in Fang's direction.

"Sorry, I have some stuff to take care of." Abandoning the fridge, Fang turned to the cupboards and singled out a can of ravioli and a fork. Gazzy had resumed his cartoon-mimicking, sending the rest of the flock into a round of laughter, and Fang felt his throat muscles tense trying to curb the urge to laugh along with them.

"Are you okay, Fang?" Angel asked him, looking up with big, worried eyes. "You seem stressed."

"I'm fine," he answered, "I just need to get back to work."

"How urgent can it be?" Max told him, "Stay down here for a while and relax!"

_Relax while fifty bucks is on the line? _Fang thought to himself, _Fat chance. _

_What? _Angel asked, staring at him quizzically.

_Um, nothing. _"I really have to get this done," he said to Max, "but maybe we can do something later tonight. I should be done by five." He cast a sidelong glance at Iggy, who wore a deceivingly innocent expression. "See you later." Then he fled, ravioli in hand.

After he was gone, Iggy said to the others, "Is it just me, or does Fang seem a little uptight today?"

"Yeah, he does," Nudge agreed.

"He was worried about something," Angel said, "He…" She trailed off when she and Iggy met gazes.

"I think we should try to cheer him up," Iggy declared, "After all, he hasn't cracked a smile all day."

* * *

><p>Tired of being cooped up in his room all day, Fang decided to go for a leisurely fly outdoors. He inhaled deeply as the wind rushed past his face and his feathers sifted through the breeze, treasuring the extremely pleasant but non-smile-inducing exhilaration of flight. Ah yes, this was the place to be, out in the open air away from the noise and the walls and the—"<em>Tickle attack!<em>"

Before Fang even had time to register what was going on Gazzy was on top of him and tickling his ribcage, and the rest of the flock surrounded him with laughter and water balloons. Twisting violently to shake Gazzy off, Fang folded his wings and dropped just in time to avoid the first balloon thrown. "Get him!" Iggy called, holding the garbage bag full of watery ammo.

_How low will you go, Iggy! _Fang snarled inwardly. Iggy knew as well as anyone that the one way to induce smiles was to get the flock playing and laughing together—and water balloon warfare was one of the flock favorites.

Suddenly that's when it struck Fang: he was _annoyed_. Annoyed at Iggy for coming after him with this stupid bet, annoyed at the flock for disrupting his peace and quiet... if he could just stay annoyed at them for the rest of the afternoon, he'd be home free in no time!

"Cut it out already," he snapped at them, "I just need some space, okay?"

"Aw, come on Fang," Nudge whined, "You've been grumpy all day!"

"Play with us!" Angel exclaimed, batting her baby blues.

Fang set his jaw stubbornly. "Maybe some other time."

Max sighed, and shook her head. "Come on, guys, let's go somewhere else. _Somebody_ isn't in the mood for playing." Oh great, now Max thought he was a grouch too.

Everyone else began to fly back towards the house except Iggy, who lagged behind for a moment. "Why Fang," he declared with mock surprise, "it seems that somebody hasn't cracked a smile all day, and people are noticing!"

"Get lost," he uttered solemnly, "or I will seriously injure you." This bet couldn't end soon enough.

Fang flew around for another couple of hours before returning to the house for something to eat. The others were in the living room watching a movie, but they didn't make any indication that they were going to pester him anymore. Not even Iggy said or did anything.

_Well then,_ Fang thought to himself, _maybe they've finally let up. _Still, he didn't trust Iggy not to try something this late in the bet, so he piled up a plate with food and retreated back to his bedroom. Never in his life had Fang been so sick of staying put in his room, but there was less than an hour until Iggy's bet was up. Once that was over with, he could smile and laugh and go outside as much as he wanted.

Just after Fang had finished eating, however, a knock came from the door. It was Max. "Hey, Fang? Can I come in?"

"Sure," was Fang's wary reply.

The door creaked opened, and Max stepped inside. "So, are you alright?" she asked, closing the door behind her. "You seem… tense today."

"I'm fine," Fang assured her, "Things have just been a little stressful."

"Oh." Max sat down on the bed to him. "Is there something upsetting you?"

"Not exactly…"

Max blushed and stared down at the floor. "Are you—I mean, did I do something wrong?"

"What? No!" Fang took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, "I swear, it's not anything you've done. I just need some time to de-stress, and then everything will be just fine."

"Glad to hear it," Max looked up at him and smiled, "though I wish I could help improve your mood. Then again…" she grinned mischievously, "maybe I can." Then she leaned up and kissed him.

Now as busy as Fang's lips were being kept, it was still all he could do not to grin as Max's mouth moved against him. Smiling while kissing Max was a habit of his; it was just something he always did. And now, as he tried to keep a straight face in the middle of this mini make-out session, Max was definitely noticing the difference.

"You _are_ mad at me!" Max pouted when she pulled away.

"Max, I'm not," Fang insisted adamantly.

"Well you _obviously_ aren't in the mood for kissing me right now," Max stood up to leave, scowling at him, "Look, if you'd rather spend time with your laptop then with me, then I—" Fang finally had enough, and before she could even take a step he pulled her back onto the bed. He pinned her to the headboard and kissed her hard on the mouth, shutting her up.

"So," he asked Max, pulling away, "how much money did Iggy promise you for coming up here?"

"He said I could have half if I got you to smile," Max replied, looking up at him slyly, "So, what gave it away?"

"You may be a pain in the butt sometimes," Fang informed her, "but you're definitely not the nagging girlfriend type. I have to say, emotional manipulation is low, even for you."

Max smiled dryly at him. "So that's it then, I'm not getting you to smile?"

"Not when a smile costs fifty bucks."

"Fine," she got up again and headed back towards the door, "but you'd better put that bet money to good use. Say, towards dinner and a movie?"

"I'll think about it," was the reply Fang gave.

And at exactly 5:00 Fang smiled smugly to himself, collected his fifty bucks from Iggy, then took Max out to see a movie—a comedy film, specifically. After that terrible twenty-four hour ordeal, Fang needed an excuse to laugh.


End file.
